Falling Skies

Thirty Seven

"Well, look who finally decided to show up."

It's been a week since the bathhouse incident. A week since Wren let slip that December is able to visit Abrahm in the palace dungeons. A week since...

"I was busy." It isn't a total lie, Celeste having ran him ragged for the past seven days with blood tests and samples and the like. "I swear." December places his hand across his chest as if to make the lie more meaningful, a small part of him aware of how little he wants to be here.

Abrahm only smiles though it isn't clear whether the action is also a lie or not. The air between the two is stale, a large gap placed between them as December hovers at the entrance of the cell. It's as much as a dungeon as one would think, plain cobblestone slabs stacked together with iron bars at each cell. There's only a sliver of sunlight that slips into the cell from a strip of window at the very top of the wall. Besides that, the only light source derives from the torches that sporadically line the walls of the corridor outside the cells.

"Are you going to come in here or not? I never thought you'd be the type to treat me like a stranger." Abrahm smirks, a fire rising within December at the expression.

"You're free to go inside." Sasha interjects from the sidelines, expression unreadable as he leans against the cobblestone stairwell leading to the upper region of the castle. He doesn't seem bothered by having to babysit December, watchful eyes merely bored as they gaze into the two human's within the cell.

Though his mind fights against it, December enters the cell, body falling onto a plain metal bed pushed against the corner of the room. There isn't much here, just a bed, desk, and chair, everything void of the colors and brightness that clutter the upper region of the palace. As he falls upon the bed it gives way with a heavy creak, the scent of mildew rising into the air from the yellowed and torn blankets.

Abrahm merely scoffs from his seat at the desk chair, head shaking slightly as he stares at the soiled blankets. "I'm pretty sure they gave me the worst cell in this place."

He seems tired, skin paled from the lack of sun and eyes dragged down by darkened bags. After only a week his cheeks have sunken in slightly, the same Haven clothes now soiled against his back and hair a tangled mess. It's a far cry from the proud man he once was.

December can only bite back his lip, nails digging into his thighs at Abrahm's arrogant comments. "You defiled their king, I doubt they were going to give you a suite, Abrahm." His words are stiff, eyes burning a hole in the wall as he adverts his gaze from the boy before him. December knows he won't be able to hold himself still, nails digging further into his flesh until red welts rise to the surface.

"God, don't tell me you're under that brat's spell too?" Abrahm barks out a stiff laugh, the sound of chains rustling against the floor echoing throughout the tiny cell. "You do know that thing is a guy right? Or is there something you just haven't told me about yourself yet? If you tell me you had a crush on me back in Haven I'll kick your ass." He jokes, chained hand reaching out to shake December's shoulder.

"I don't have feelings for Wren." I think... "And I don't have feelings for you either."

December shrugs away the chained hand on his shoulder, gaze still coldly cast away against the cobblestone wall. He can't bring himself to look into Abrahm's eyes, to acknowledge the man he thought he knew so well, the man he regarded as a brother. Now to look upon him is to gaze into the eyes of a beast, a creature without a conscious or a soul, just a physical manifestation of sin and pride.

"Well," Abrahm inhales, chains rattling with the movement. "that's good to know since..." his gaze falls upon Sasha across the room, eyes narrowing slightly as they bounce between December and Sasha. "you know...the blockers." He whispers, head tucked away from Sasha sat patiently in the stairwell.